Happy Lakesgiving

Thursday morning I headed out onto Lake Titicaca.



My fellow passengers were a Polish foursome (whom I later found out were from New Jersey), a young Taiwanese couple, a Northern Italian woman named Gerlinde, and three cranky lesbians. Well, to be fair, only one of them was cranky, and evidently she was suffering from severe diarrhea, but still, it never hurts to smile!



Anyways, our first stop were the Floating Islands of Uros. It's kind of hard to believe, but during Inca times, these people fled out onto the lake, and started building islands out of reeds that grow in the shallow waters. They've since created whole floating villages.



See the solar panel? Gift of the Fujimori administration.


So if this works, it'll be MaximumZarou's first video posting! Exciting, no? Unfortunately, I stopped recording just before the three ladies said in unison, "Hasta la vista, Baby!" The Governor would have been so proud...




Now granted, the islands I visited were putting on a show for the tourists. But evidently there are several hundred people living there year-round, most of whom never have any contact with the tourists. Pretty amazing, even if I finally got suckered by the souvenir sellers.



For another 8 soles (less than three bucks, if you're keeping score), we took a ride on a reed boat.





("Wow, what a horrible looking mustache on that guy! We should definitely contribute to public school kids so he never has to suffer such embarrassment again!" But seriously, folks, you know I never ask for your money (unless it's for myself), I'd always much rather have your time and energy when it comes to social justice. But right now, for pennies a day, you can support needy kids and get to make fun of the mustache! I know times are tough, but if every reader of this blog just gave $5, then we'd have, like, ten dollars. Just click on the upper right hand corner of this page to make your TAX-DEDUCTIBLE donation. OK, commercial over.)



From Uros, we headed out deeper into the Lake, towards our destination, Isla Amantaní.



Some four and a half hours by motorboat from Puno, Amantaní is a little world unto itself. The people retain their traditional dress, and to supplement their meager farming income, they allow groups of tourists to come stay in their homes.







Of course, some tourists fit better into their homes than others.



After a home-cooked (over a clay stove fueled by eucalyptus branches) lunch, we hiked to the top of the island, which is a peak named Pachatata (Earth Father, there's another one called Pachamama, or Earth Mother) to watch the sunset.







The view from up there was incredible.






Brian. What can I say about this nutty kid? He followed us up the entire mountain, spitting vaguely recognizable tunes through his pan flute the whole time. I found him a little annoying, but the lesbians left behind some money with the tour guide for his education. One of the most difficult things to figure out here is when it's appropriate to give money to people and when you're just being taken advantage of. Of course, when you consider the difference in standard of living, and the fact that 3 soles is one dollar, it becomes a lot easier to give. But then, you don't want to support a dependency, either. For example, I brought some notebooks, pens, and pencils for my host family. I was told that small gifts like that were a good idea. But I heard this morning from the Poles that their host mother told them she'd rather just have money. And the host mother of the lesbians told them she doesn't want tourists giving kids on the island coins because then Amantaní becomes just like Lima or anywhere else in Peru. I dunno.



Gerlinde's and my host family, mother Anna Lin and 3-year-old son Edson.

In any case, the islanders get their revenge for whatever imposition we cause by dressing the tourists up in traditional dress and forcing them to dance around the community room to the strains of the high school band.





Now, I'm a good dancer. Just ask my mom! But I could not find the beat those boys were beating out for the life of me, and jumping around under a wool blanket with my head wrapped in alpaca was becoming a little too sweaty, so I went outside to look at the stars. Unbelievable. I can't remember when I'd last seen so many. Orion actually looked like a hunter, bow poised and dog at this feet! Other constellations were too difficult to find, because there were just so many freakin' stars! And out over the lake, miles and miles away, I could see lightning storms. Quite a night, and miles (and centuries) away from real life.

I should say that while I'm enjoying talking to the mustachioed stranger in the mirror, I can't help but miss my loved ones this Thanksgiving night. But a bowl of warm soup and a plate of rice and potatoes by candlelight with an indigenous family under a sky so clear seemed in some ways a more fitting Thanksgiving night than I would have had at home. But don't worry, I'll still be back in the States by Christmas to gorge on turkey and television.



Morning time, and though we look cheerful, we are unwashed and sleepy, (lacking running water and having been awoken by angry livestock) but Isla Taquile awaits.






An hour's boat ride later, we approached the island of Taquile, which has been populated for the last 10,000 years. It is a serene and lovely place, renowned for its fine textiles and distinctive dress, and which gets completely overrun with tourists.



See all our boats? I did my best not to take pictures with tourists in them, though I fear it might be too late for this insular community to remain isolated.



Where you at?

A nice long winding hike up and around the west side of the island leads to a town square with a great view, and then on the west side is a steep stone 533-step staircase we descended after lunch.






A long boat ride back to the mainland, and I'm back in the hustle and bustle of Puno. I have found something redeeming about this town, by the way. Evidently the cuisine this place is most famous for is wood-fired pizza. So I'm off to get me some more of that. Tomorrow it's a daylong bus ride to Cusco, where I just might get to do some laundry!

I leave you tonight with this "Code of Courtesy", which was hanging in my room on Amantaní. I much prefer it to the Ten Commandments.



Good advice for all of us, especially number 8.